


Atmosphere

by Nixxi



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Airplanes, Alternate Universe - Corporate, Casual Sex, Chance Meetings, Drinking, Explicit Sexual Content, Flirting, Fluff, Gladiolus: 25, Hand Jobs, Holidays, Ignis: 24, Light Angst, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Not a Mile High Club Fic, Office Party, Oral Sex, Second Chances, Slow Dancing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-23
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:54:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24871876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nixxi/pseuds/Nixxi
Summary: “Excuse me.”Ignis looks up from his laptop to find an absolutely enormous man towering over him. He smiles easily down at Ignis, a duffel bag slung over one shoulder, his dark, longish hair tied back in a loose bun. For a moment, Ignis can only stare at him. He’s absolutely enormous and terribly handsome.“I’m 8C,” the man says apologetically, gesturing at the empty seat between Ignis and the window. “Mind switching? It’ll be a little tight if I have to squeeze in there.”Gladio and Ignis connect on a flight to Lestallum.
Relationships: Gladiolus Amicitia/Ignis Scientia
Comments: 89
Kudos: 215





	1. My Bags Are Packed, I'm Ready to Go

**Author's Note:**

> So I started writing a fic where Gladio and Ignis meet on a plane and it kind of snowballed. This is set in the FFXV world, but it's a corporate AU, and Ignis and Gladio are 24/25. There will be another chapter where Gladio and Ignis hook up, so please note that the tags will change. This is NOT, however, a mile high club type of story. Thank you for reading!

“Excuse me.” 

Ignis looks up from his laptop to find an absolutely enormous man towering over him. He smiles easily down at Ignis, a duffel bag slung over one shoulder, his dark, longish hair tied back in a loose bun. For a moment, Ignis can only stare at him. He’s absolutely enormous and terribly handsome.

“I’m 8C,” the man says apologetically, gesturing at the empty seat between Ignis and the window. “Mind switching? It’ll be a little tight if I have to squeeze in there.”

Ignis looks at the seat, then back up at the man, taking in his long legs, broad shoulders, and meaty chest. It would be a tight fit indeed, and Ignis prefers the window anyway, so there’s really nothing to think about. He closes his laptop, stows his tray, and moves over, leaving room for the man to sit. The man reaches up to place his duffel bag in the compartment above, and as he does so, his raglan shirt rides up, exposing a slice of tanned abdomen, lightly downed with dark hair. Ignis flushes and glances away, fumbling with his glasses.

The man sighs as he drops into the seat next to Ignis. Even though he has the aisle, it’s still a tight fit, and his muscular arm presses against Ignis’s own. “Thanks again. Last time I flew, I got stuck in the middle seat, and my knees were so stiff I could barely stand afterward.” He looks at Ignis, smiling again, and Ignis’s heart skips a beat. This man has the most beautiful eyes he’s ever seen. “You heading to Lestallum, too, or connecting?”

Ignis clears his throat. “Lestallum is my final destination. I have a series of business meetings to attend.” He pauses. “And you?”

“Same. Well, except for the business meetings. My cousin’s getting married and they’ve basically made a week-long festival out of it. The whole family’s coming.”

“Ah. My sympathies?”

The man grins at him. “It ain’t so bad. I haven’t seen my cousins in two years, so it’ll be nice to hang with them for a bit.” He holds out a hand. “Name’s Gladio, by the way.”

“Ignis.” He takes Gladio’s hand and shakes it. His grip is firm and strong, and his touch sends an electric shiver through Ignis. “Pleasure to meet you.”

Gladio gives him an appraising look. “So…business meetings, huh? What kind of work do you do?”

“I’m employed at a Capital 20 firm in the Financial District,” Ignis says. 

It’s a scripted response, kept purposely vague. He doesn’t like to publicize the fact that he’s the personal aide to Noctis Lucis Caelum of the Caelum Armis Corporation, one of the world’s largest defense companies. The unscrupulous sort could take advantage of that fact to get to Noct or, gods forbid, the rest of the family. It's happened before in the past, and opening the door for a repeat of that situation is a risk Ignis simply cannot afford to take, even though this Gladio seems trustworthy enough.

“No shit,” Gladio says in an awed tone. “All that money and they’re sticking you in economy?”

Ignis allows himself a wry smile. “That was my choice. I didn’t see the point in travelling first class, given that the flight is only an hour.” 

The intercom crackles to life, interrupting their conversation, and the captain’s voice informs them that the plane will be taking off in the next five minutes. Ignis takes the opportunity to review his itinerary on his phone. Provided the plane lands without any delays, he’ll have just enough time to drop his things off at the hotel before he’s expected at his first meeting, over lunch at a brasserie near the market. He sends a quick email to the other participants to let them know he’s looking forward to the meeting, and then he slips his phone into the inner pocket of his leather jacket, just as the plane begins taxiing down the runway.

“So what do you do at this firm?” Gladio asks.

“I’m a senior sales executive,” Ignis lies crisply. “I work with prospective clients and partners to nurture mutually beneficial relationships with the company.”

Gladio nods absently, and Ignis sees he’s achieved his goal. It’s a bland enough response that Gladio is unlikely go digging for more information.

“And you?” Ignis says, diverting the conversation from himself. “What do you do?”

Gladio waves a hand. “Nothing too exciting. I work part-time at the Insomnia University Library.”

“And the other part?”

“I’m a student,” Gladio says. “Just finishing up my graduate degree in kinesiology. Not sure what I’ll do with it when I’m done, exactly, but I was thinking sports therapy.”

Ignis is surprised. Based solely on his physique, he had Gladio pegged for a personal trainer or perhaps a fitness model, but evidently there’s more to this man than meets the eye. 

“You study kinesiology, yet work at a library,” Ignis observes. “Those are two very different pursuits.”

Gladio begins to reply, but he’s interrupted as the captain’s voice comes over the intercom. “ _Flight attendants, prepare for take-off_.”

There’s a flurry of activity as the flight attendants bustle down the aisles to take their seats at the front of the aircraft. The engines roar to life and the plane starts to move down the runway, gathering speed. Ignis looks out the window, watching the asphalt pass in a blur underneath. Then the plane lifts off, and suddenly he’s gazing out over the sprawl of Insomnia, its skyscrapers shimmering like crystalline pillars in the morning sunlight.

As they ascend, Gladio leans over to resume their conversation. Ignis catches a whiff of his cologne, something woody and spicy, and his breath catches. “To answer your question, the kinesiology is the practical pursuit. I work at the library ‘cause I like books.” 

“Oh?” Ignis attempts to reconcile this information with the impression of the man he’s been building in his head. “What sort of books do you enjoy?”

Gladio shrugs. “I’ll read anything. I’m about halfway through Cassius’s _Inhuman Wars_ right now. You heard of that one?”

“I read it in first-year political science,” Ignis says. He removes his glasses and begins to clean the lenses with his pocket square. “If I remember correctly, he had some controversial things to say about Niflheim’s actions during the invasion of Tenebrae.”

“Yeah, I was enjoying it until he started defending all the war crimes,” Gladio says. “Kinda thinking about putting it down, actually. I’ve got plenty of other books to read, so I figure why waste my time on something that ain’t holding my interest anymore?”

“That might be wise,” Ignis says. “We were only assigned the chapter that examines the power structure Niflheim installed after annexing Tenebrae, but I chose to read the entire thing. There is little recommend in the text beyond that.”

Gladio nods. “So if you studied poli sci, how’d you end up in sales?”

Ignis pauses, thinking about his answer. In his role as personal aide, he’s required to manage relationships with global business partners and help Noct navigate the complex world of defense contracting. Not a day goes by where he isn’t liaising with a foreign government, and so his degree has come in useful even in a corporate setting. Of course, he can’t tell Gladio any of that. Better to keep his answer truthful, but vague.

“When I began my degree, I had dreams of entering the civil service,” he says slowly. It isn’t entirely a lie; he spent three years on contract as a policy analyst with the Civil Defense Department before Noct poached him. “But by the time I was finished, my hopes for my career had changed. I suppose you could say I ended up in sales by chance.”

“You ever regret it?”

Ignis blinks in surprise. It’s an astute question, one that takes him back to all the nights he spent wrestling with remorse after he took the job. Of wondering whether he could truly find fulfillment as a cog in the corporate machine when he’d spent so much of his life aspiring to work toward the public good. Eventually, his growing friendship with Noct, the complexity of the accounts he was working on, and the absurdly large numbers on his paycheques silenced his doubts.

“I suppose I miss certain aspects of working in government,” he admits. “But I much prefer the stability and opportunities for growth that a corporate job provides.”

A flight attendant comes by with the beverage cart, mercifully sparing Ignis from having to elaborate on that thought. Gladio orders a beer, while Ignis asks for a cup of coffee. He stirs two creams into it and takes a sip while Gladio pays for his drink.

“What do you do outside of work?” Gladio asks, changing the topic before Ignis has the opportunity.

Ignis pushes his glasses up his nose with his middle finger. “I’m afraid I don’t have much time to myself. The job keeps me rather busy. I do like to cook. I consider myself a bit of an amateur chef, actually.”

“Oh yeah?” Gladio’s grin takes Ignis’s breath away. Besides Noct, who has the benefit of sampling Ignis’s menus, no one has shown so much interest in Ignis’s cooking. “Got any favourite recipes? My sister’s been getting into cooking lately and she’d probably love it if I brought her something new to try.”

“You have a sister?”

“Yeah. She’s turning sixteen in a couple of months. My dad’s job keeps him pretty busy, too, so she’s been doing the cooking at home.”

“You sound proud of her,” Ignis observes.

Gladio nods, taking a sip of his beer. “Our mom died when she was seven. Practically raised her myself after that. It’s just nice to see her picking up some life skills without needing my help, y’know?” 

The impression he holds of Gladio in his head shifts yet again, rearranging him into a doting big brother. He imagines a teenage Gladio reading his sister bedtime stories and packing her school lunches, all the while quietly working through his own grief for his deceased mother. Ignis’s heart softens toward him further. “My condolences,” he murmurs.

Gladio waves a hand. “Don’t worry about it. I didn’t mean to be a downer.”

“You’re not. I lost my parents at a young age as well, so I understand.” Ignis sips his coffee, mulling over his next words. Although Gladio is a virtual stranger, Ignis feels safe in his presence, as if he can open up about his past without making him uncomfortable. “They were killed in a traffic accident when I was twelve. I was fortunate that my uncle took me in.”

“Shit. That’s rough.” It’s a statement of fact, not an empty platitude. “Are you and your uncle close?”

Ignis smiles down into his cup. “Not as such, no. I’m grateful that he fed me and clothed me, but he’s not a particularly nurturing man. I don’t think he knew what to do with a child.”

“So why’d he take you in? Didn’t you have any other family?”

“My mother’s sister, in Tenebrae,” Ignis says, “but I’ve never spoken to her. There was some sort of falling out between them before I was born.”

“Bad enough that she didn’t even want to take in an orphaned kid?”

“So it would seem.”

“Family, huh?” Gladio snorts. “You think can rely on them ‘cause they’re blood, but then they turn around and pull some bullshit you’d never expect.”

Ignis studies Gladio, his gaze lingering on his full lips before moving back up to his eyes. “You sound like you’re talking about something specific.”

Gladio shrugs nonchalantly. “My dad just withdrew a lot when my mom died. He was a workaholic before she got sick, but for the first few years after, he spent almost every waking minute at the office. It really upset my sister. My mom’s death hit her the hardest, and he didn’t seem to get that she needed him.” Gladio is quiet for a moment before he adds, “Or that I needed him.”

Ignis nods. He understands all too well. The loss of his parents shook his entire world off its axis, and though his uncle tried to fill the void they left in Ignis’s life, it was never the same, because he simply didn’t understand how their absence damaged Ignis’s psyche. “The death of a parent at such a young age changes you. Someone who has never been through it can’t comprehend its impact,” he murmurs.

“You can say that again. When I finally went back to school, I couldn’t even relate to my friends anymore.” Gladio looks at him with an intense sort of honesty in his eyes. “All their gossip and drama seemed pointless next to my mom being dead.”

“Yes. It robs you of your innocence,” Ignis says. “You can’t be carefree after you’ve come face to face with a loved one’s mortality. And, I suppose, your own.” 

“Yeah.” Gladio smiles at him, and absurdly, Ignis’s heart skips a beat. “Y’know, I’ve never told anyone any of this before.”

“Nor have I,” Ignis says softly.

It seems significant that Gladio has chosen him to hold this precious secret about his life. There’s a gravity to this moment between them, a fragility that Ignis fears might shatter if he says the wrong thing, but the intercom cuts in before he can utter another word. It crackles to life and the captain’s voice addresses them: “ _Folks, we’re about to begin our descent into Lestallum. We should be at our gate in approximately fifteen minutes._

“ _Local time is ten forty-seven a.m. and the temperature on the ground is a sweltering ninety-five degrees. If you have a connecting flight to Altissia, you should make your way to Gate 16. Connections to Tenebrae are departing from Gate 7. On behalf of Lucis Airlines, thank you for travelling with us today and we wish you a safe journey to your final destination_.”

“Ugh.” Gladio drops his head back against the headrest. “Ninety-five degrees. And I thought it was hot in Insomnia.”

Ignis looks down at his leather jacket. “I may be somewhat overdressed.”

“Yeah, but you look good,” Gladio says with a grin.

Ignis flushes in pleasure. He’s experienced enough in love that he shouldn’t be so readily taken in by simple flirtation, but it sounds sincere coming from Gladio, and Ignis is terribly attracted to him. It’s easy to believe he senses this chemistry between them, too.

“Thank you,” he says.

With a chime, the seatbelt sign illuminates, and a flight attendant comes by to collect their empty cups. Ignis looks out the window again. The aircraft has begun its descent, and he has a bird’s-eye view of Cleigne’s rugged terrain. The black depths of Taelpar Crag yawn directly below, and in the distance, the crystal spires at the Disc of Cauthess reach toward the sky.

Gladio leans across him to get a look out the window. The scent of his cologne envelops Ignis again, and he’s struck by a sudden yearning—for this flight to go on just a little bit longer, and for this man he’s not ready to say goodbye to quite yet.

“I love seeing the Disc from way up here,” Gladio says. “Last time I flew into Lestallum, the fog was so thick I couldn’t see a damn thing.”

“Well, you can look as much as you like,” Ignis says, pushing the shade up fully to give Gladio a better view.

They watch out the window together as the plane approaches Lestallum, flying low over the central boulevard and circling behind the EXINERIS plant before it makes for the airport. Heat shimmers on the asphalt as they touch down on the runway. The plane slows and begins to taxi toward the terminal, guided by a marshall signalling with a pair of orange wands. Ignis steals a glance at Gladio; in the light blazing through the window, his eyes are like liquid gold. 

As soon as the plane reaches the gate, Gladio stands, groaning when his knees crack. He grabs his duffel bag from the overhead bin, then moves aside so Ignis can retrieve his carry-on suitcase. The passengers ahead of them begin to disembark. He follows Gladio down the aisle and off the aircraft, and they walk side by side down the concourse, bumping shoulders. The wheels of Ignis’s suitcase clatter on the concrete floor behind them. 

“So, uh…” Gladio rubs the back of his neck. “You got time to grab a coffee or something before your business meetings?”

“I’m afraid not,” Ignis says regretfully. He’s loath to part with Gladio’s company so soon, even if it is for the purposes of furthering the company’s interests in Cleigne. “My first appointment is at noon and I need to stop by my hotel first.”

“Oh yeah? Where are you staying?”

“At the Leville,” Ignis says. He glances at Gladio, daring to hope he’ll be lodging there as well. “And you?”

“Definitely not the Leville. It’s way too swanky for me,” Gladio says with a laugh. “Actually, my uncle has a pretty big place on the outskirts of town. He’s putting all of us up for the week.”

Ignis tilts his head. “‘All of us’?”

“Me, my sister, and my cousins,” Gladio says. “I’ve got seven of ‘em.”

Ignis raises his eyebrows. “But not your father?”

“Nah. This is my mom’s side of the family. My dad was never that close to them.”

The automatic doors whisper open and they emerge onto the arrivals curb. Ignis shades his eyes from the blinding sun as a heavy shroud of humidity settles over him. Even the towering palm trees that line the sidewalk offer no relief from the heat. There’s a lengthy queue at the taxi stand. He’d best join it if he wants to get to the city centre with enough time to freshen up and make a punctual appearance at his meeting.

“I see my uncle’s car,” Gladio says as he eyes the vehicles idling at the curb to collect arriving passengers. “Guess this is where I say goodbye.”

“Ah. Yes.” Ignis pushes his glasses up his nose and turns to Gladio, a strange awkwardness descending on him. Now that the moment of their parting is upon them, a simple farewell seems…well, anticlimactic. “It was nice to meet you. Your company made the flight marginally more tolerable.”

“Oh yeah?” There’s that grin again. It makes Ignis feel as if he’s being consumed by the sun. “Just marginally?”

Ignis smiles and revises his statement. “Perhaps a great deal more tolerable. But don’t let it go to your head.”

Gladio outright laughs at that. “No promises.”

They look at each other for a moment in silence. Ignis doesn’t want this to be the end; the magnetic connection between them seems too powerful to sever. Surely there must be more than this. Surely Gladio feels it, too.

“Can I have your number?” Gladio asks, adjusting his duffel bag on his shoulder. “My sister doesn’t land ‘til tomorrow and I’ve got nothing going on tonight. Maybe we can meet up for drinks or something.”

The suggestion puts a flutter of excitement in Ignis’s belly; it confirms that this beautiful man wants to spend more time together. Without hesitation, he offers Gladio his number, enunciating each digit slowly so Gladio doesn’t mishear or type it into his phone incorrectly.

“This ain’t a fake, is it?” Gladio asks.

“You can text me before we part ways if you want to be sure.”

Gladio does; a moment later, Ignis’s phone pings with the notification. He takes it out of the inner pocket of his jacket and reads the text: _i’m free tonight. can i see you?_ Smiling, he types his response: _My last meeting ends at 9 p.m. Text me then and we’ll see about making plans._

“Deal,” Gladio says. He starts to walk backward, toward the line of cars at the curb, grinning as he points at Ignis with the hand holding his phone. “You’d better keep that schedule free tonight.”

Ignis watches him go, already looking forward to their next meeting—already certain there will be another. “Count on it,” he answers. 


	2. Kiss Me and Smile For Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who read and commented on the first chapter! I'm so glad this self-indulgent little piece resonated with some you. ♡

_your business meeting done yet?_

Ignis loosens his tie as he reads the text message from Gladio. It’s quarter past nine and he’s just returned to his hotel room after a late dinner with some executives from a Caelum Armis partner company.

 _Just finished_ , he responds.

Gladio’s next text arrives immediately: _you still up for drinks?_

Ignis smiles. A long day of networking and negotiations has left him a bit weary, but he won’t pass up the opportunity to see Gladio again. _I am_ , he replies. _Can you meet me at the Leville bar at 10?_ That should give him enough time to shower and freshen up after spending a hot day in his suit. 

_you bet. see you in a bit._ 😉

Ignis puts down his phone and opens the double doors to his balcony, letting in the warm summer breeze and the sounds of nightlife from the streets below. In the bathroom, he runs the shower lukewarm and gets in, giving himself a quick scrub with the hotel soap. Gladio has been at the back of his mind all day, but now he lets the man overwhelm his thoughts. Those golden eyes, that rich laugh, the gentle pressure of his arm against Ignis’s on the plane. The anticipation of seeing him again puts a pleasant flutter in Ignis’s stomach. 

When he gets out, he wipes away the condensation on the mirror, blow dries his hair, and carefully styles it into a pompadour. Then he examines the contents of his suitcase, debating what to wear. A dress shirt would be the most flattering choice, but altogether too stifling in this heat. He decides on a fitted navy blue polo shirt and his dress pants. A spritz of cologne puts the finishing touch on the ensemble.

At five to ten, he makes his way downstairs to the hotel bar. The place is crowded, but nowhere near as raucous as the typical Lestallum establishment. A tinkle of soft jazz music plays over the speakers, and though there is a general hum of conversation, it’s muted. He’ll have to lean close to Gladio to make himself heard, but they won’t need to shout into each other’s ears.

He immediately spots Gladio sitting at the bar, observing his surroundings and nursing a beer. Like Ignis, he’s clearly had a shower and changed his clothes since this morning; his dark hair is loose to his shoulders, and the black tank top he’s wearing displays expansive, feathery tattoos on his muscular arms. Ignis takes a deep breath and approaches him.

“Hey!” Gladio’s face breaks into that brilliant smile when he sees Ignis. “You came.”

“Of course.” 

Gladio gestures to the bar stool next to him, inviting Ignis to sit. “How did your meetings go?”

“Successfully, I think.” Ignis hails the bartender as he takes a seat and orders his usual drink. “Gin and tonic, please.” 

“Yeah? Think you’ll make the sale?”

“I should,” Ignis says vaguely, eager to turn the conversation away from work. “And you? How was your afternoon?”

Gladio takes a swallow of his beer. “Not bad. Went for a drive this afternoon with two of my cousins. Ended up going swimming at an abandoned quarry near Pallareth Pass.”

Ignis observes him, noticing for the first time the redness on his nose and cheeks and forehead. It’s rather adorable. “You do look like you’ve had some sun.”

“We forgot to bring the sunscreen,” Gladio says sheepishly.

The bartender returns with his gin and tonic. Ignis takes it gratefully and slides a twenty gil note across the bar top. “But you had a good time?”

“Sure did. I love camping and outdoorsy stuff, but between school and work, I don’t really get the chance to do it much these days,” Gladio says, playing with his bottle cap. “You know, I took two years off before starting my Master’s to go on a backpacking trip across Lucis with friends. We hiked everywhere. Up Longwythe Peak, across Duscae. Even made it as far as Ravatogh.”

This information doesn’t surprise Ignis. Gladio is rugged enough in appearance that it’s easy to picture him roughing it in the backwoods of Lucis. “That sounds like quite the adventure,” he says.

“It was.”

“And what did you see on your travels that left an impression?” Ignis asks, taking a sip of his drink. “Any favourite moments?”

Gladio’s brow creases, as though he’s reaching back through the years in search of the right memory. “That’s a tough question. Either the herd of anaks that crossed through our campsite one morning, or the meteor shower we saw when we were staying in the Ravatogh foothills.”

“That sounds magical.” 

“Yeah.” Gladio smiles, looking down the neck of his beer bottle. “Kinda wish I could go back to it.”

Ignis can see the appeal of sleeping under the stars, night after night. There’s a certain romance to that kind of solitude—in escaping from Insomnia’s monolithic glass towers, blinding lights, and restless streets. “Why don’t you?”

“Got bills to pay. And I like hot showers.”

“Cheers to that,” Ignis says.

They clink their glasses together and drink. Ignis can feel Gladio watching him; he likes it. He likes the sensation of being wanted.

“What about you?” Gladio asks. “You travel much?”

Ignis hesitates. In the two years he’s been with Caelum Armis, he’s flown all over the world for business—including Gralea, a place most Lucians daren’t set foot even now, ten years after the end of the war. But how much of that should he share with Gladio? Regardless of Ignis’s attraction to him, he’s still just a stranger, and there’s Noct’s safety to consider…

“I’ve been to Lestallum several times,” he finally says, “as well as Accordo and Tenebrae.”

Gladio whistles. “Damn. We’ve got a jet-setter over here.”

“Well, much of it was for business,” Ignis says, swirling the dregs of his gin and tonic in his glass. “I did, however, manage to nip out to a few restaurants I’d read about in _Lucian Cuisinier Quarterly_. There was one place in Altissia that had the most exquisite seafood I’ve ever eaten.”

“I’ll bet,” Gladio says. “Did you get to go on a gondola ride? I’ve always wanted to do that.”

“No.” Ignis smiles ruefully. He remembers watching the gondolas gliding down the canals, longing for a moment to himself so he could enjoy such a novelty. “It didn’t seem like an appropriate activity to undertake with our business partners.”

“You sure about that? Ain’t it your job to sweet talk ‘em?”

“We call it negotiation in the business world,” Ignis says, amused. “And in any case, I don’t know that I have the charm for sweet talking.”

Gladio shrugs, a hint of a smile curving the corner of his mouth. His eyes are soft as he regards Ignis. “I think you’re plenty charming.”

“I’ll have to take you at your word.” Ignis raises an eyebrow, offering him a teasing smirk as he adds: “You do seem to be an expert at laying it on thick.”

Gladio laughs. “Am I coming on too strong?”

“Not at all,” Ignis says, shaking his head. “On the contrary, I find it refreshing. No one’s flirted with me this aggressively in a good long while.”

“Seriously? A stunner like you?”

Ignis’s ears go hot, and he looks down into his glass. Gladio is so free with his compliments. His confidence suggests that he’s done this countless times before, with countless other people. If they take this upstairs, will Ignis be just another notch on his belt? Will Gladio forget about him come the dawn?

More importantly, does it really matter if a quick romp is all Gladio is after? Ignis isn’t even sure he wants more than that himself. There’s only one way this flirtation can end: with a meaningless tumble. Ignis’s life back in Insomnia is too complicated for a relationship. And the notion that a man he met on a plane—a man he’s known for less than a day—could fill that vacancy in his life seems far-fetched.

Gladio’s hand covers his where it rests on the bar. The easy way he touches Ignis puts an unexpected flicker of arousal in the pit of his belly. “I find that hard to believe,” he says.

“The last time I met someone at a bar was a year and a half ago,” Ignis says. “It’s been longer still since I went on a date.”

Gladio raises his eyebrows. “You take a vow of chastity or something?”

Ignis laughs and shakes his head. “It has more to do with lack of opportunity. My career doesn’t leave much room for romantic entanglements, and my former partners quickly realized they didn’t want to compete with my schedule.”

“Well, that’s their loss.” Gladio looks at him steadily, sincerely, his thumb stroking over Ignis’s knuckles. “If you wanna take me upstairs, I ain’t gonna say no.”

There is nothing Ignis would like more. He glances around the bar and realizes that it has grown more crowded since his arrival. As much as he’s been enjoying the atmosphere, moving their date somewhere more private is a natural next step.

“We can continue this in my room,” he says. “Perhaps with another round of drinks to go.”

Gladio nods. He orders two more beers and pays for them, and then Ignis leads him up to the top floor of the hotel, where his room is located. The balcony doors are still open, and the evening breeze flows in, tempering the humidity that hangs in the air. Gladio whistles as he takes in the details of Ignis’s accommodations—the king-size bed, the intricate carvings on the crown molding, the luxurious leather chairs in the spacious lounge area.

“Shit, you’re in the lap of luxury up here,” he says, sitting on the edge of the bed. Ignis tries not to think about how good he’d look sprawled naked across the white sheets. “You even have a balcony and everything.”

“So I do.” Ignis uses the bottle opener on the minibar to pry the caps off their bottles of beer. “Would you like to sit out there for a little while?”

“Sure,” Gladio says, accepting one of the beers from Ignis.

Outside, Gladio leans on the wrought-iron railing and looks out into the night. There’s a club across the square from the Leville. The lights of its marquee sign cast a neon blue glow over the cobblestones, and the electronic dance music that throbs from within is audible even from here. A group of women loiter outside the door, talking and laughing and smoking, dressed in fishnets and miniskirts. 

“I bet they work at the power plant,” Gladio says, nodding toward them.

“Oh? What makes you say that?”

“Mostly their biceps and thighs,” Gladio says. “They’re massive. Operating the plant is physical work, y’know.” When Ignis raises an eyebrow, he laughs and adds, “What? You’ve never people watched before?”

Ignis leans against the railing beside him. “It’s never occurred to me to try.”

“You’ve probably done it subconsciously. Look.” Gladio points at a couple sitting on a bench under the palm trees in the middle of the square. The woman is turned away from her partner, her arms crossed over her chest, while he appears to be pleading with her. “What do you think’s going on with them?”

“I would assume they’ve just had an argument,” Ignis says.

Gladio nudges him with an elbow. “See? Easy. You’re picking all that up just from their body language.” Next, Gladio indicates an elderly man playing the saxophone near the alley that leads to the market. “How ‘bout him?”

Ignis shrugs. “A busker, perhaps.”

“You sure about that? He doesn’t have a cup to collect money.”

“He might be using his instrument case instead.”

“It’s closed.”

“Ah.” So it is, tucked inconspicuously against the building behind him. Ignis glances at Gladio, unsure where he’s going with this train of conversation, but willing to follow it all the same. “You have a theory of your own, I take it?”

Gladio smiles at him, his eyes warm in the light spilling out from the room. “Maybe he just likes to serenade passing lovers.”

“That’s a romantic notion.” Ignis studies the old man and wonders, despite himself, about the moments in his life that led him to this square tonight. “And what is the purpose of this exercise?”

Gladio takes a swallow of his beer and shrugs. “I like stories, and everybody’s got one. You never wonder what’s going on in the lives of the people around you?”

“The ones close to me, I suppose,” Ignis says slowly.

“I guess we just have different ways of looking at the world. Being open to other people’s stories helps me get to know ‘em better. Really know ‘em, not just scratch the surface.” Gladio licks his lips, his brow furrowing, like he’s weighing his next words carefully. “Listen, I’m no stranger to the business world. My dad got me an internship at his company back in the day and I hated it. A lot of it seems shallow. You shake each other’s hands and say ‘how do you do’, but it doesn’t mean anything. You’re just going through the motions so you can get your mitts on their gil.” 

Ignis looks at him, surprised again by the many facets of himself Gladio has chosen to reveal in the twelve brief hours they’ve been acquainted. He’s handsome and well-educated, but he’s also observant, empathetic, and sensitive—and even though he’s criticizing the world to which Ignis belongs, his honesty is admirable. 

From the moment they met, Ignis desired him. That attraction is deepening by the minute. 

“Sorry,” Gladio says, scratching the back of his neck. “Hope I didn’t insult you or anything.”

Ignis shakes his head. “Not at all. You’re more on the money than you might think, actually. It took me some time to adjust to that environment after my years in the civil service. Though I do have to ask…”

“Yeah?”

“Did you wonder about my story when you first saw me on the plane?”

Gladio grins. “‘Course.”

“And?”

“You seemed confident, but kinda closed off. Maybe a little uptight.” Gladio looks at Ignis, studying him from head to toe. “All work, no play. I’m usually pretty chatty on flights, but I wasn’t sure you’d be receptive.”

Ignis pauses with his beer bottle at his lips and gives a helpless shrugs of affirmation. There’s no denying that work consumes so much of his life. He’s a social creature, but by necessity; his nights on the town are generally spent with business partners at smoky cigar bars and traditional gentlemen’s clubs, in the interests of furthering Caelum Armis relationships. While these outings are enjoyable enough, Ignis wouldn’t characterize them as play. They’re strictly professional. This is the first time in a long while he’s taken the opportunity to socialize for pleasure.

“But hey, I was wrong.” Gladio bumps him with his shoulder, perhaps interpreting his silence as offense. “I didn’t think a guy like you would give me the time of day. Now you’ve managed to seduce me up to your bedroom.”

Ignis smirks. “Don’t make me regret that decision.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Gladio reaches out to place a hand on his hip, pulling him a little bit closer. Ignis offers no resistance. “And if you wanna follow through on that seduction, I’m ready and willing. I mean, if you’re still up for it.”

Gladio smells like cedar and cloves, with a hint of citrus underneath, and Ignis can feel the heat radiating from his body. What would it be like to hold him? To kiss him? To give him pleasure, and receive it from him in kind? 

“I am up for it,” Ignis murmurs. 

Without missing a beat, Gladio cups his cheek and leans in, pressing their mouths together. The sounds from the street recede as Ignis is enveloped by Gladio’s body heat and the smell of his skin. He grasps Gladio’s thick forearm, parting his lips to accept Gladio’s tongue, his blood rushing southward in a spate of arousal. Gladio tastes like the beer he was drinking, and Ignis savours him as they explore each other’s mouths. Between the alcohol and Gladio’s touch, Ignis feels like he’s floating.

A wolf whistle comes from the street below. Gladio chuckles and breaks the kiss, smiling down at Ignis.

“What do you think? Should we take this inside?” he asks.

Ignis nods. “Let’s.”

They return to the room, leaving the balcony doors open. Ignis pushes Gladio down on the bed. He bounces once on the mattress, legs spread and eyes wide as Ignis kneels above him, surging in for another kiss. They devour each other, and Ignis runs his hands under Gladio’s tank top, his palms skimming over firm muscle and smooth skin. Gladio sits up and lifts his arms so Ignis can pull the shirt over his head, baring his upper body. He’s even more magnificent than Ignis could have imagined.

The tattoos on his arms are in fact part of a larger design, that of a bird of prey. It spans his broad shoulders and generous chest, with the head situated on his left pectoral, the beak barely clearing his nipple. Ignis brushes his fingertips over the dusky flesh, gratified when it stiffens at his touch. 

“You like the ink?” Gladio asks, tugging at the hem of his shirt.

“It’s beautiful.” Ignis allows Gladio to divest him of the article of clothing, removing his glasses when they’re knocked askew on his face. He folds them and sets them aside on the nightstand. “What does it symbolize?”

“Nothing important. It’s just the family crest.”

Gladio discards the shirt on the floor and kisses Ignis again, pulling him down until they’re skin to skin. Ignis rakes his fingers over Gladio’s torso, mapping the furrows between his ribs, the hard muscle of his abdominals, and the trail of hair below his navel before he reaches Gladio’s belt. Without hesitation, he unbuckles it and draws down the zipper of his jeans. Ignis knows what he wants—what he’s wanted since the moment he set eyes on Gladio this morning.

A peal of laughter floats up from the streets below, through their open balcony doors. Gladio lifts his hips so Ignis can take off his pants. Then he slips his hand under the band of Gladio’s boxer briefs and runs his fingers over the hard length he finds within, bringing a soft moan out of Gladio. It’s the most erotic sound Ignis has heard in a long time. He kisses Gladio lightly as his fingertips graze the wet head of his erection.

“I’ve been horny for you since the plane,” Gladio murmurs against his lips, his eyes heavy-lidded.

“Have you?” Ignis responds, more pleased by the confession than he’d ever admit. “I suppose it would be cruel of me to make you wait any longer, then.”

He pushes the band of Gladio’s underwear down just enough to expose his erection. It’s heavy and veined, and precome dribbles down the side of it, tempting Ignis to catch it with his tongue. Like everything else about him, it’s beautifully formidable. 

Ignis wraps his hand around it and gives it a firm stroke, rubbing the ball of his thumb over the frenulum. Gladio’s face slackens in pleasure, his eyes fluttering and his lips parting on a soft exhale, so Ignis keeps doing it, watching as his fist brings another bead of precome welling up in the slit. 

“Come here,” Gladio says breathlessly, cupping the back of Ignis’s neck and kissing him when he leans in.

Their tongues meet as Ignis sets a steady cadence, attuned to the cues of Gladio’s body—the way his fingers tighten in Ignis’s hair, and how his breath shudders when Ignis applies just the right pressure, at just the right speed. Gradually, Gladio’s kisses grow less deft; the more Ignis touches him, the clumsier his tongue becomes, until he’s just panting against Ignis’s mouth. 

When they come up for air, Gladio watches Ignis stroke him, the muscles of his abdomen tense and his lower lip caught between his teeth. His brow is furrowed in concentration, his chest heaving with uneven breaths. The sight of him on the brink of orgasm has Ignis achingly hard, wanting something he’s not sure how to ask for. He glides a hand up Gladio’s chest, his fingers whispering over one nipple, before he brings it back down to rest lightly on his abdomen, feeling the muscles bunching underneath.

“ _Fuck_ , Ignis,” Gladio breathes, just before his whole body goes rigid and he comes with a choked groan, his eyes squeezing shut. Ignis strokes him through the aftershocks, mesmerized by the bliss on his face and the semen painting his belly. He hasn’t felt this kind of power over anyone in such a long time. It seems incredible that Gladio trusts him enough to wield it.

He watches as Gladio comes back down from the heights, his body going boneless on the bed and his eyes opening again to look dreamily at the ceiling. “I’ll get something to clean you up,” Ignis says.

Gladio nods. Ignis retrieves a hand towel from the bathroom, wets it, and returns to the bed, giving Gladio’s body a quick wipe-down. After setting it aside on the nightstand, he leans in to kiss Gladio again, only to be pushed onto his back.

“Your turn,” Gladio says with a grin. He fingers the band of Ignis’s slacks. “Let’s get these out of the way.”

Ignis needs no further convincing. He undoes the clasp of his pants, and Gladio pulls them off along with his underwear, leaving him naked on the bed. Ignis’s erection lays in a pool of precome on his belly, hard as mythril. He wants Gladio so badly he’s dizzy with it.

Gladio leans in to kiss him again, and then his lips trail southward, down Ignis’s throat and chest, taking a quick detour to tease a nipple with his tongue before continuing his journey. When he gets between Ignis’s trembling thighs, he settles himself on his stomach and pushes Ignis’s legs further apart with his big hands.

Then Gladio’s mouth engulfs him, hot and wet, and need crackles through Ignis’ veins like an electric shock. His hips thrust involuntarily, seeking more friction, but Gladio just laughs and holds him down, bobbing his head at his own pace, tongue caressing the head of Ignis’s erection. It’s a sweet torture, but it won’t take long to bring Ignis to completion. Simply watching Gladio come apart at his touch already has him most of the way there. Now, all he can do is surrender himself to the release that’s rushing toward him. 

Gladio’s throat closes around him, and he runs his fingers restlessly through Gladio’s hair, rising on the wave. Gladio must sense it; he brings his hand into the mix, stroking the base of Ignis’s erection in rhythm with his merciless lips. 

Ignis lets out a broken moan as he comes into Gladio’s mouth, the pleasure sweeping him away. 

*

They doze for a while. When Ignis wakes again, moonlight spills across the bed. The breeze coming in through the balcony doors is cooler now, and the sounds of the city have gone quiet, leaving only the chirping of crickets to fill the silence. Gladio still sleeps next to him, though he stirs when Ignis shifts in the bed.

“What time is it?” Gladio murmurs.

Ignis reaches for his phone on the nightstand, squinting when the display lights up in the darkness. “Just after three.”

Gladio puts an arm around him and pulls him closer, pressing a drowsy kiss to his shoulder. “You in the mood to go again, or…?”

Ignis nods, brushing a tendril of hair out of Gladio’s face. “I am.”

They kiss languidly, their legs tangled together between the sheets. Eventually Gladio pushes the top one away, and they rediscover each other’s bodies with their hands and lips, their sweaty skin sticking together. Ignis revels in the taste of Gladio’s mouth and the sound of his moans, in this connection they’ve made that somehow feels so much more than physical.

When they’re sated, it doesn’t take long for Gladio to fall asleep again. Ignis lies awake and watches him. He can smell Gladio all over himself; there’s a strange intimacy in that. There’s been a strange intimacy to all of their interactions, one Ignis doesn’t want to let go of, but knows he must.

The sun will rise, and they’ll go their separate ways. Return to their individual lives. 

And all of this will be like a pleasant dream.

*

Ignis is already showered and dressed by the time Gladio wakes up.

“Morning,” he says briskly, opening the lid of the coffee maker to insert a filter. “Did you sleep well?”

Gladio scratches a hand through his tousled hair. Even groggy, he looks impossibly handsome. All the more so for being naked in Ignis’s bed, his skin golden against the white sheets. “After last night? Slept like a log.”

Ignis smiles. “That’s good to hear.”

Gladio sits up, swinging his legs out of the bed. The balcony doors are still open, spilling sunlight across the tiled floor. Songbirds twitter out on the rooftops, and Ignis can hear the distant rush of traffic on the main boulevard. Lestallum is coming awake.

Gladio begins to stretch his arms. “You got time for breakfast?”

“I’m afraid not,” Ignis says, as much as he wishes that wasn’t the case. There’s a diner around the corner that makes the best omelettes Ignis has ever eaten, and the idea of twining his fingers with Gladio’s on the faded red tabletop is a tempting one indeed. Perhaps too tempting. “I have another day of meetings ahead of me.” 

“But it’s Saturday.” 

“Yes,” Ignis agrees.

Gladio pauses mid-stretch and gives him a dubious look. “You seriously have meetings all day on a Saturday?”

“Unfortunately, that’s the nature of the business,” Ignis says. The coffee machine beeps to signal that his brew is ready and he pours himself a cup. “My calendar is dictated by my clients’ availability, and they are very busy people. I don’t have the luxury to decline when they ask to meet on weekends.”

“Then can I see you after?”

Ignis grimaces. As much as he’d enjoy a repeat of last night with Gladio, his schedule won’t allow it. “My flight back to Insomnia is at seven p.m., just after my last engagement.”

Gladio nods, his face falling, but he doesn’t press the matter further. He gets out of bed and begins the hunt for his clothes. Ignis watches him as he drinks his coffee, taking this last opportunity to admire Gladio’s thick thighs and perfectly sculpted rear end. It will be a shame to say goodbye to him.

“I should probably get going, anyway,” Gladio says as he pulls on his underwear. “My sister’s flight arrives at noon, and I’ll never hear the end of it if I’m not at the airport to meet her.”

Ignis gestures at the percolator with his mug. “Would you like a coffee before you go?”

“Nah, I’m good. Thanks, though.”

Gladio finds his jeans under the upholstered chair and steps into them, and then pulls his tank top on over his head, the muscles of his abdominals rippling with the movement. For an instant, Ignis is overcome with a hopeless urge to take all of Gladio’s clothes off again, to skip out on his meeting and spend the rest of the day in bed with him.

He clears his throat and asks, “What do you have on the docket for the weekend?”

“My uncle’s invited us all to his cottage at the Vesperpool. As soon as the rest of my cousins arrive tomorrow, we’re gonna drive up there,” Gladio says. “It’s pretty much just an excuse to swim and drink beer out on the lake.”

“I imagine that will be a pleasant reprieve from the heat.”

“Guess so.” Gladio grabs his wallet off the nightstand and tucks it into the back pocket of his jeans, but he doesn’t make a move toward the door. Ignis recognizes the look in his eyes—he’s searching for a reason to linger. “So, uh…”

Ignis swallows. “Thank you. For last night.”

“Yeah. I had fun.”

“As did I.” It’s painfully awkward. Why is it so difficult now, when everything last night seemed so easy? “And I hope you have a lovely time with your cousins.”

“Thanks.” Gladio scratches his head and finally steps toward the door. Then he stops with his hand on the doorknob and turns back to Ignis. “Listen, I’ll text you later. Just to make sure you make it to your flight okay. You cool with that?”

Ignis hesitates. As much as he wants to believe their connection means something, at his core, he is a realist, and he’s been through this before. No matter his intentions with Ignis, Gladio will meet other people while he’s in Lestallum—during evenings out on the town with his cousins, at the bachelor party, at the wedding itself—and the night they spent together will recede into his memory as a pleasant but unremarkable moment in his life. Besides, even if they did reconnect in Insomnia, Gladio would soon learn that Ignis’s schedule leaves little time for a relationship.

Still, he can’t bring himself to close the door on the possibility of seeing Gladio again. “Yes, I don’t mind.”

Gladio seems to hesitate, too, and a hopeful part of Ignis thinks he might come over to deliver a parting kiss, but in the end, he only nods. “All right. I’ll talk to you later.”

He opens the door and slips out, leaving Ignis alone with his cup of coffee.

* 

As promised, a text message arrives from Gladio as Ignis is boarding his plane back to Insomnia. _have a safe flight_ , it says. _been thinking about you all day._

 _Even with your cousin’s wedding celebrations in progress?_ Ignis responds. _I’m flattered that my performance was so memorable._

_it ain’t just your performance that’s on my mind._

Ignis pauses to give his boarding pass and identification to the gate attendant. She scans it and hands it back to him with a smile. As he rolls his suitcase down the jetway, he returns to his conversation with Gladio.

 _You’re too generous_ , he responds.

_i’m serious. when i get back to insomnia, i wanna take you out again._

Ignis flushes in pleasure. It’s the most straightforward Gladio has been about his intentions since they woke up this morning. _I might be open to that_ , he answers, playing coy.

 _you MIGHT be?_

The flight attendant greets him as he enters the plane, and then he begins to make his way down the aisle, pausing when the woman ahead of him stops to place her purse in the overhead bin. 

Ignis takes the opportunity to respond: _I’ll message you when I land._

_all right. i’ll talk to you then. hope you have a nice flight._

_Thank you. Have a lovely drive to the cottage._

Ignis puts his phone on flight mode and tucks it into his inside jacket pocket. There’s a woman sitting in the window seat when he arrives at his row. She doesn’t so much as glance up from her book—a far cry from Gladio’s friendly greeting yesterday morning. 

Ignis sighs and takes his seat, and retrieves his laptop from its carrying case. In the absence of Gladio, he’ll have to settle for work. 

*

When he steps off the plane, there are six voicemails from Noct awaiting him, each more frantic than the last. _"Specs!_ " he whines in the final message. _"Seriously, how long is your flight? Magitek’s like three seconds away from cancelling their contract. Call me the second you land."_

Ignis sighs wearily. Of course an emergency of this magnitude would rear its head at eight p.m. on a Saturday Ignis has already spent working, when all he wants is a glass of wine and a good, long soak in his bathtub. Magitek is one of the company’s biggest clients, and if what Noct says is true, Caelum Armis is at risk of losing nearly half a billion gil in yearly revenue. 

He dials Noct’s number, and Noct picks up after the first ring. “ _Specs! You have no idea how glad I am to hear from you_.”

“Stay calm, Noct. What’s going on?”

“ _I dunno. There must’ve been a fuckup on the assembly line. Something about malfunctioning satellites. They’re mission critical, so Magitek is piiiiiiiiissed_.”

Ignis rubs his forehead, willing away the headache that’s beginning to form. “I’ll be at the office in ten minutes. In the meantime, I’ll get Aranea on the phone and see if there’s anything I can do to smooth things over. There’s no problem that can’t be solved with a bit of customer service.” He pauses. “Or in this case, quite a lot of customer service.”

“ _Thanks, Specs_.” The relief is evident in Noct’s tone. “ _See you in ten_.”

In the taxi, Ignis pulls up Aranea’s contact information and calls her. It’s gone ten-thirty in Niflheim, but she’ll answer. She rivals Ignis in dedication to her work, and as Magitek’s procurement lead, she’ll likely be working through the night on this.

 _“Figured I’d be hearing from you sooner rather than later_ ,” she says when she picks up. As always she sounds unruffled, even lightly amused. “ _Did the boss light a fire under your ass_?”

“In a manner of speaking, yes,” he says. “Aranea, I’m terribly sorry about this. There must have been some sort of mixup on the production line.”

“ _No shit. Aldercapt hauled me into his office to chew me out, so you’d better sweeten the pot, and I mean big-time, or I’m dropping you for Archaean. Got it_?”

Ignis closes his eyes and takes a calming breath. “Yes, understood. Do you have a few minutes to discuss the terms of your contract? Off the bat, I’d like to offer you a ten percent discount on your purchases for the next year…” 

Their conference call with Magitek goes late into the night. It’s past two in the morning by the time they come to a verbal agreement, and Ignis can hardly keep his eyes open. Across the boardroom table, Noct looks similarly fatigued. They assure Aranea they’ll send over the paperwork in the morning, and then they part ways, Noct in his company-issued car and Ignis in a taxi.

When he gets home, he has just enough energy to strip down to his underwear before he falls face-first into bed. He’s asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow. 

And when morning comes, he forgets to text Gladio.


	3. Every Place I Go, I Think of You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've hit the end! Thank you guys for following along for the past two chapters. I hope this conclusion hits the spot. ♡
> 
> As a bonus, you can listen to the song that inspired this chapter [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T5hdNCuuIYw). The song that inspired the previous two chapters can be found [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZkiVB0_mGzc).

“Are you sure I have to wear this thing?” Noct tugs at his tie, grimacing at himself in the mirror. “I think it’s trying to strangle me.”

“Yes, I’m sure. The dress code is the same every year,” Ignis says, holding up Noct’s jacket so he can slip his arms into the sleeves. “And as the vice president of Caelum Armis, it’s important that you show up looking the part.”

“It’s just the company solstice party,” Noct grumbles. “No one’s gonna care what I’m wearing. Like, half the people who’ll be there have known me since I was in diapers.”

“And the other half are new employees you’ve never met before,” Ignis says crisply. “So do try to make a good first impression, won’t you?”

He dusts off the shoulders of Noct’s jacket before turning to his own reflection. Like Noct, he’s clad in his best suit: fitted grey slacks and jacket, a white dress shirt, and a navy blue tie. He’s styled his hair into his usual pompadour and applied a bit of concealer to hide the deep shadows under his eyes. 

Work has kept him busy of late, with the Magitek account representing a significant and ongoing source of stress for him. There have been other failures since the debacle with the satellites six months ago—an overcharge on an order form, parts missing from a shipment, a bungled response to a client support ticket. Although they’ve been minor incidents, they demonstrate a pattern of incompetence, and Ignis has been running himself ragged to keep Aranea happy and retain the contract. 

That’s why he’s looking forward to the party. As it’s an internal function, he won’t be required to network with anyone but his own colleagues, and it will give him a precious opportunity to take his mind off the Magitek file for a while. His only regret is that he doesn’t have a date for the occasion. Another casualty of his workload.

At least, that’s what he tells himself. It’s easier to blame an outside force than acknowledge the consequences of his own inaction. More than once since his return from Lestallum, he’s scrolled down his list of contacts to Gladio’s number, but shame has always precluded him from reaching out. Despite his best intentions, Ignis forgot to message him, and by the time he remembered weeks after the fact, it seemed too little, too late. And it was foolish, perhaps, to continue pining after a man whose last name he didn’t even know.

In any case, Gladio never texted him, either. Perhaps he met someone else during his week in Lestallum.

Noct looks up from his phone. “The limo’s here. You ready to go?”

Ignis nods, smoothing a stray hair back into place along his temple. “Yes, let’s be on our way. We don’t want to be late.”

They don their winter coats and emerge from the warmth of Noct’s condominium into snowy streets. The driver already has the door open for them; Ignis gestures for Noct to get in first, and then he follows. Prompto, Noct’s excitable best friend and plus-one for the party, is already waiting for them inside. As arranged, the driver collected him from his apartment on the outskirts before making his way to the city centre.

“Guys! Check it out!” He flourishes a green bottle with all the panache of a model showcasing a prize on a game show. “I brought champagne.”

“Nice!” Noct takes the bottle from him and reads the label. “But you do know there’s an open bar, right?”

“Uh, yeah,” Prompto says, tugging at his hair the way he always does when he gets anxious. “I just thought we could do some pre-drinking. Y’know?”

“A thoughtful gesture, to be sure.” Ignis motions for Noct to pass him the bottle, and as Prompto retrieves three glasses from the mini bar, he pops the cork. He fills each of the glasses halfway, and then raises his own. “Shall we have a toast?”

Noct nods. “What do you want to toast to?” 

Ignis considers the question for a moment. “To a happy solstice,” he says. “And good friends.”

“Hear, hear!” Prompto chirps, and they clink their glasses together.

It’s normally a short drive to the Leville Grand, but between the traffic downtown and the inclement weather, it takes them nearly half an hour. Ignis spends the ride sipping his champagne, only half listening to Noct and Prompto chatter about King’s Knight as he watches pedestrians trudge along the snowy sidewalks. Idly, he wonders where they’re all going on a night like this. A solstice feast with family? A rendezvous with a lover? Or perhaps somewhere mundane, like the night shift at the corner store?

Their driver drops them off at the front door of the Leville Grand. They leave their outerwear at the coat check and proceed to the ballroom, where they find the party already underway. The room is crowded, the buzz of conversation deafening. Groups of people socialize around cocktail tables draped in black linens, and the delicate chandeliers that hang overhead are dimmed, bathing the room in a soft, atmospheric glow. A pop song plays over the speakers; Ignis spots a disc jockey in the corner of the room, near the expansive bar, where a throng of his colleagues wait in line to purchase drinks on the company’s dime.

He scans the crowd for familiar faces and identifies Regis on the makeshift stage with Clarus Amicitia, the company’s Chief Operating Officer. They stand with their heads together, deep in conversation, likely discussing forecasts for next quarter. A few feet away, Cor, the director of operations, listens with a stony expression as a woman Ignis doesn’t recognize speaks animatedly, making wild gestures with her hands. Beyond that, the room is so crowded that he can’t pick out anyone he knows.

“One of these days, we will be on time for a work function,” he says with a sigh.

Noct claps him on the shoulder. “We’re fashionably late, Specs. It’s all good.”

Prompto grabs the front of Noct's suit, staring with wide-eyed wonder at a table piled high with pastries, tarts, and other desserts. “Oh em gee, you guys. Is that a chocolate fountain?”

“You bet, buddy. Caelum Armis pulls out all the stops,” Noct says with a laugh. 

A server in a white dress shirt and black bowtie pauses next to them with a tray of hors d’oeuvres. “Can I interest you gentlemen in some bulette skewers?”

Ignis declines but Noct and Prompto each accept one. Noct smears barbecue sauce across his chin with his first bite. Sighing, Ignis removes the handkerchief from his left breast pocket and hands it to Noct so he can mop himself up.

Meanwhile, Prompto looks like he’s in ecstasy. “Dude, I love this place,” he says with his mouth full.

“I’m going to get a drink,” Ignis says, raising his voice so he’ll be heard over the din. “Will you gentlemen survive mingling on your own for a few minutes?”

Noct glares at him, but it’s half-hearted. They both know rubbing elbows is the responsibility he detests most. “Geez, thanks for the vote of confidence, Specs. We’ll be fine.”

“Yup.” Prompto slings an arm around Noct’s shoulder. “Leave it to me, Igster! I’ll make sure he schmoozes like a pro.”

Ignis isn’t entirely convinced, but he leaves them to it, beginning to weave his way through the crowd toward the bar. Along the way, he spots a few more people he recognizes—Dustin from accounting, Monica from human resources—but they’re all otherwise engaged, so he doesn’t stop to say hello. 

When he reaches the line for the bar, he encounters another familiar face, though certainly less friendly than the others: Titus Drautos, Caelum Armis’s director of sales and a man Ignis has never had much use for. He’s abrasive and has an inflated sense of self-importance, and to Ignis’s chagrin, Drautos notices him as soon as he takes his position behind him in the queue.

“Scientia,” he says in greeting, his eyes disdainfully sweeping over Ignis from head to foot. “Managed to crawl out from under the Magitek clusterfuck, did you?”

“For tonight, yes,” Ignis says blandly.

“For tonight?” Drautos echoes. “You mean you haven’t resolved their complaints yet?”

“Not as yet, no. But we’re working on it.”

Drautos sneers. “Well, you’d better get it figured out. My team didn’t put their blood, sweat, and tears into winning the account so you people can piss it all away.”

An angry heat creeps up the back of his neck, but Ignis tamps down on it and fixes Drautos with his coldest, most level look. “Are you suggesting the blame for these logistical errors lies with the company’s leadership? If you like, I’d be happy to relay that feedback to Noct and Regis.”

The sneer turns into a scowl, and Ignis smiles placidly until Drautos turns around again. Only then does he realize he’s been holding tension in his muscles, and he forces himself to relax, taking his phone out of his pocket to distract himself with his emails until he reaches the head of the line.

“What’ll it be?” the bartender asks.

“Gin and tonic, please.”

He moves aside to let the next person in line give their order, and frowns as he reads an email from Caelum Armis’s logistics partner, updating him on the status of a delayed shipment to Magitek. Dealing with it is bound to give him a headache, but perhaps one he can delay until the morning…

“You sure love your gin and tonics, don’t you?”

The voice is familiar, and it sets Ignis’s heart racing, the email forgotten. He looks up from his phone and sees a man he thought he’d never encounter again: Gladio, perched on a bar stool a few feet away, a tumbler of amber liquid at hand.

“What are you doing here?” he says, stunned.

Gladio shoots him a self-deprecating smile. “That happy to see me, huh?”

The bartender returns with his gin and tonic. Ignis accepts it and takes a sip, mentally composing himself. Gladio is as handsome as ever, though more polished than he was when they met on the plane to Lestallum. Gone are the t-shirt and sweatpants. They’ve been replaced by a suit of midnight blue, the fabric of his jacket tailored to hug his broad shoulders and ample biceps. His thick hair is oiled back into a tight bun, his beard trimmed in a precise line along his jaw. Seeing him brings Ignis back to the night they spent together, and with it, a rush of longing.

“I’m just surprised,” he says. Confused, to be more precise. “This is a private company party, and you told me you were in kinesiology…”

Gladio shrugs nonchalantly. “Yeah, I’m my dad’s plus-one.” 

Ignis frowns, trying to reconcile this piece of information with the things he thought he knew about Gladio. “Your father works for Caelum Armis?”

“Yep.” Gladio swirls the alcohol in his glass before taking a swallow of it. “Clarus Amicitia. You’ve probably heard of him.”

It sounds like a jest. What are the chances that a stranger he met on a plane could be so closely connected to the very company Ignis works for—and at the upper echelons, no less? “Clarus Amicitia is your father,” he says skeptically.

“Sure is.”

Ignis is silent, absorbing this. This is the third Caelum Armis solstice party he’s attended; at the previous two, Clarus brought his teenage daughter, Iris, as his plus-one. Clarus has mentioned his adult son before in passing, but never by name, and Ignis never thought to ask for it. But now that Ignis knows the connection, he sees the resemblance between Gladio and Iris—the dark hair, the golden eyes.

“So the internship you told me about…”

“Was at Caelum Armis, yeah,” Gladio says. “Spent three months on the phones in customer support before I threw in the towel.” He studies Ignis, his eyes wary rather than interested now. A far cry from the way he looked at Ignis in that Lestallum hotel room six months ago. “Gotta say, though, I wasn’t expecting to see you here, either. When you said you work at a Capital 20 company, I assumed you meant somewhere boring, like Lucis Rubber Industry.”

“I was deliberately vague for security purposes. I’m the personal aide to Noctis Lucis Caelum.”

“So you’re not even a sales guy?”

“Not as such, no…” Gladio frowns and looks away, and Ignis feels the situation slipping through his fingers. He scrambles to salvage it. “What I told you was a half truth. I assist Noct in managing relationships with the company’s biggest clients. I apologize for my dishonesty, but I had my reasons.”

Gladio waves a hand. “Don’t worry, I get it. I read all about the extortion scandal when it was in the papers.”

Ignis nods, relieved that Gladio understands his motives. It’s been two years since that story broke. An intern in the executive office with an enthusiasm for gossip and an absence of common sense flapped her gums about Noct’s comings and goings to a stranger she’d met on InsomniaMatch, during their first date, no doubt to impress him. The stranger used the information to threaten Noct’s safety unless Regis wired him ten million crowns, going so far as to break into Noct’s apartment and leave sinister messages for him to find. The police intervened before the culprit could escalate, but since then, Ignis has been very careful about what he reveals regarding his job to people he doesn’t know.

“That why you never texted me?” Gladio says. “You thought I was too much of a risk?”

Ignis shakes his head. “Nothing so complicated as that. I merely forgot. And if I may point out, you never texted me, either.”

“Figured you were trying to blow me off after you gave me that BS about Saturday meetings.”

Affronted, Ignis opens his mouth to set the record straight, but the rebuke just as quickly dies on his lips. What will arguing accomplish? From his own perspective, he was speaking honestly that morning—but he can see why Gladio might have interpreted his words as excuses, designed to evade further contact. 

The moment they parted replays in his head, fuzzy around the edges. He remembers deflecting Gladio’s invitation to breakfast, the awkward dance as they said their goodbyes, and Gladio hesitating in the doorway, perhaps wondering how to interpret Ignis’s lukewarm response to his request for further contact. Is it any wonder he chalked it up to disinterest?

When he meets Gladio’s eyes again, he realizes Gladio is smiling. It’s a wry smile, but it’s better than naked resentment, and he can work with that. He has always regretted his failure to maintain a line of contact with Gladio; this is his opportunity to rectify it, and by the gods, that’s what he intends to do. 

He clears his throat. “Your glass appears to be empty,” he says, gesturing at the vessel in question. “May I tempt you with a drink?”

Gladio laughs softly and shakes his head. “Depends. If it’s a pity drink, I ain’t interested.”

“It’s a drink to make my continued interest known,” Ignis says, looking him square in the eye. “No more and no less.”

Gladio studies him for another moment, a cautious sort of hope dawning on his face, before he nods. 

“What would you like?” Ignis asks. “A beer?”

Gladio laughs. “Hell no. As long as Caelum Armis is paying, I’m going for the good stuff. How ‘bout a whiskey?” Ignis nods, and Gladio points at the bottles lined up neatly on shelves behind the bar. “Steyliff Stag. The twenty-five, neat.”

Ignis orders two drams, and when they have their drinks in hand, they move away from the bar to a vacant cocktail table. It isn’t much quieter here, but at least they have the illusion of privacy. They stand close together so they can be heard over the pulsating music and ambient chatter. Close enough that Ignis catches the scent of Gladio’s cologne, that same woody, spicy fragrance he was wearing the day they met. 

He swirls the liquid in the glass before taking a sip. It’s smoky and smooth, and it trails fire down his throat when he swallows. “Mmm. That’s quite good.”

“Yeah. My uncle had a few bottles of it stashed up at his cottage,” Gladio says, leaning against the table with one elbow, his eyes scanning the crowd. “My cousins and I got totally hammered the weekend we were up there. Had the worst hangover of my life, but it was worth it.”

“Well, what are weddings for, if not to get roaringly drunk?”

“Meeting new people?” Gladio looks at him sideways with a teasing smile. “I mean, I slept with this hot guy and couldn’t get him out of my head all week. Never heard from him again, though.”

“Gladio…” Ignis goes warm with a confusing mixture of pleasure and shame. It seems Gladio wanted him—really wanted him—and Ignis was, evidently, misguided to assume otherwise. “I thought you might have met someone else at the wedding.”

“Me? Nah.” Gladio makes a dismissive gesture with his hand. “There were three hundred guests at the wedding, and at least half of ‘em were family. There was no one to meet. I spent most of the week with my sister.”

“Speaking of…” Ignis latches onto this, eager to steer the conversation away from his romantic fumbles and onto less embarrassing subjects. “Where is your sister? Doesn’t she normally accompany your father to company functions?”

“One of her school friends was having a party and she wanted to go to that instead,” Gladio says. “So Dad asked me.” He raises an eyebrow at Ignis. “Why, you keeping tabs on my family or something?”

“No. I only ask because she was his plus-one at every solstice party I’ve been to. I’m just surprised I’ve never seen you before, especially since you interned here.”

Gladio shrugs. “I left the company four years ago. Backpacked for two years after that and been busy with school ever since.” 

He departed not long before Ignis joined the company, then. That explains why they never encountered each other. Ignis wishes they had; he suspects his life would be richer for it.

“So.” Gladio’s back to studying him. “I take it work’s still kicking your ass?”

Self-consciously, Ignis looks down into his glass. Is the concealer that unconvincing? Or does he simply look more tired than he thought? “More or less.” He thinks of all the late nights he’s spent on the phone with Aranea, and Drautos breathing down his neck at every opportunity. “One of our biggest clients is threatening to terminate their contract with us, and despite my best efforts to placate them, the situation is deteriorating.”

“Then maybe you should let ‘em go.”

Ignis laughs helplessly at that. The idea has crossed his mind before—to surrender to the mess the company has made of the Magitek account and let fate take its course. “That’s impossible. The contract is worth half a billion crowns. I’d lose my job.”

“So you’d rather lose your mind?”

Ignis shakes his head. “Noct needs me. He’s bright and eager to prove himself to his father, but he doesn’t yet have the organizational and diplomatic skills he needs to excel. That’s why he brought me onboard. To guide him and support him in managing relationships that are yet beyond his capabilities.”

Gladio raises an eyebrow. “But is that what you want out of life? Are you happy?” 

Ignis pauses. What does it mean to be happy? He’s satisfied, and until recently, that was enough for him. “My entire life is tied up in Caelum Armis…” he says slowly. “Without it, I have nothing.”

“Seriously? Nothing?”

“My parents are dead,” Ignis says bluntly. “I don’t have a partner. Not even a pet. No one to welcome me home after a long day at work, besides the potted plant on my windowsill, and even that’s wilting. So really, there’s no reason to leave the office, is there?” 

Gladio frowns, his eyes still studying Ignis’s face. What must he think of such a confession? Ignis doesn’t even understand why he’s baring himself like this, except that he’s exhausted from trying to hold Magitek together for so long, and Gladio makes him feel protected—has always made him feel that way, from the moment they met. Only now that he’s saying these things aloud, he realizes how terribly sad it all sounds. 

He’s about to apologize for his candour when the frenetic tempo of the pop song playing over the speakers evanesces and a slower melody fades in to take its place. The rhythm of the drums is like a heartbeat, mirroring the restless affection Ignis feels for Gladio. 

Gladio drains the rest of his whiskey. “You wanna dance?” he asks.

Ignis nods, his pulse quickening at the promise in those three simple words. Gladio leads him onto the dance floor, among all the other swaying couples, and Ignis places a hand on Gladio’s shoulder, feeling crisp wool under his fingertips. Gladio pulls him closer; all Ignis is aware of is the scent of him, and the warmth of his body, and his enormous hand in the small of Ignis’s back. The physical attraction Ignis felt for him back in Lestallum is still there. It’s inescapable.

“That okay?” Gladio asks.

Ignis looks into his eyes, so beautiful and sincere. “Yes,” he murmurs. 

They move together to the music, Gladio holding their joined hands against his chest. It’s a familiar configuration, taking him back to the night they fell asleep in each other’s arms as the Lestallum breeze stirred the curtains. He remembers the taste of Gladio’s mouth when they kissed. The sight of his tranquil face as he lay sleeping next to Ignis. That’s the connection he’s been hungering for all these lonely months.

Gladio smiles down at him, his face soft in the glow of the chandeliers. “You know, I wanted to take you out dancing that Saturday night.”

“Did you?”

“Yeah. Lestallum’s got a great nightlife. Figured we should take advantage of it.”

Ignis tries to imagine this: the two of them, grinding together under the ultraviolet lights of a Lestallum club, the top buttons of Ignis’s dress shirt undone and his skin glistening with sweat. It’s such a foreign concept to him—so different from the posh bars he typically frequents with clients—that it makes him laugh. 

“I’m afraid I wouldn’t have been much use,” he says. “Dancing—that sort of dancing, anyway—isn’t in my wheelhouse.”

“Doesn’t matter.” Gladio’s looking at him with a new intensity in his eyes. “You could be the worst dancer in the world and I’d still wanna spend more time with you.”

An unexpected surge of fondness comes over Ignis, and his smile fades. How could he have possibly let this man slip through his fingers? Why did he allow himself to use his work as an excuse not to text him? Ignis has never truly believed in anything as nebulous as fate, but this is twice they’ve met by chance. Perhaps it’s a sign.

“Gladio,” he says, nervously fingering the lapel of his suit, “the morning we parted…”

“Yeah?”

“I really did have meetings,” he says. 

Gladio shakes his head. “You don’t have to explain.”

“Yes, I do.” Gladio has already made it clear that he doesn’t hold their interactions that morning against him. But Ignis needs Gladio to know the truth. “I wanted to have breakfast with you. And I meant to text you when I landed, but real life simply…got in the way.”

“You saying what’s going on between us ain’t real life?”

How can it be? Everything about Gladio seems too good to be true. It’s impossible that one man can be so handsome and thoughtful and kind, and tenacious in his pursuit of Ignis even after being disregarded. “I want it to be,” Ignis murmurs.

“Then quit overthinking it.” 

The hand in the small of his back brings him in, and Ignis finally gives in. He lays his cheek against Gladio’s sturdy shoulder and closes his eyes, shutting out everything but the music and the two of them. This is it—this is what he’s been hungering for. A second chance with the man whose absence has haunted him since the moment he slipped out of Ignis’s hotel room. A metaphysical connection that not even six months of separation could quell. Until this moment, he didn’t realize how at peace he felt in Gladio’s arms.

They sway together until the music shifts back to something more upbeat. Reluctantly, Ignis pulls away from Gladio’s embrace, looking up at him as partygoers flood the dance floor around them.

“You good?” Gladio asks.

“Yes.” Ignis swallows and runs a hand down his tie, smoothing the fabric. He hasn’t felt this sort of euphoria in so long. “Thank you for the dance. I—”

“Igster!” A gangly arm loops around his shoulder—Prompto, with Noct on his heels. “We’ve been looking all over for you.” He spots Gladio and does a double-take. “ _Whoa_! Who’s the hottie?”

Gladio laughs and puts out a hand for Prompto to shake. “The name’s Gladio. I’m a friend of Ignis’s.”

“Uh huh. Right. Friend,” Prompto says, elbowing Ignis in the side and winking at him dramatically.

Ignis clears his throat. “Quite.”

“I think we’ve met before,” Noct says. “You’re Clarus Amicitia’s son, right? You used to do coffee runs for us.”

“Yep,” Gladio says, “and you got pissed at me because I didn’t put enough milk and sugar in yours.”

Noct shrugs. “Black coffee’s gross.”

“Come on, you guys, quit arguing!” Prompto grabs Ignis’s hands before he can intercede and starts to spin him around. “Let’s boogie!” 

Ignis is flying too high to protest. They spend the rest of the night dancing, pausing only to listen to Regis’s address and help themselves to refreshments. During slow songs, Ignis and Gladio find their way into each other’s arms again, and each dance is like the first. By the time the party ends at two in the morning and the hotel staff herd them out of the building, Ignis is sorry that it’s over.

They’re among a handful of stragglers when they emerge into the quiet street. Ignis calls the driver of their limousine and bundles Noct and Prompto into it, declining an offer of a ride home. He’s not quite ready to say goodbye to Gladio yet—not with an audience, at any rate—and he’d rather make the twenty-minute walk home than miss out on this precious opportunity with him.

As the limousine pulls away from the curb, the snow still falls, blanketing the steps of the Leville in white. Ignis raises his face to watch it swirl down from the night sky like confetti. He’s all too conscious of Gladio’s presence beside him, standing so close that their elbows bump together.

“I guess this is where we say goodbye,” Gladio says. “Again.”

“Just for a short time.” 

“That a promise?”

“Yes.” Ignis looks at him. The snow bejewels his hair and eyelashes, lending an ethereal quality to his handsome features. “May I kiss you?”

For a moment, Gladio looks surprised, but it quickly melts away into a grin. “Sure.”

Ignis tilts his face upward, just as Gladio moves in to meet him. The moment their lips touch, he’s flooded with a giddy warmth, akin to intoxication. He wraps his arms around Gladio’s waist, seeking refuge from the cold in the warmth of his body, and opens his mouth to let him in. It’s familiar, the way Gladio kisses him—familiar, but excitingly new all at once. He tastes like whiskey and spice, and Ignis wants to relive what they shared together that night in Lestallum. He wants that, and so much more.

He’s not sure how long they stand there, lost in each other; he only knows that when they part, it’s too soon. Ignis opens his eyes to find Gladio looking at him with a fond smile on his face.

“So,” he murmurs, pressing their foreheads together. “Think you can squeeze a date with me into that busy schedule of yours?”

“Yes.” Ignis nods and kisses him again, softly, his lips lingering as he answers, “I think I can make that a priority.”


End file.
